


The Way Old Friends Do

by roseandheather



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Grieving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 06:58:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4777850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandheather/pseuds/roseandheather
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are as many kinds of love as there are people. John and Susan share one that shapes both of them for the rest of their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way Old Friends Do

"Come in?"

The chirrup of the door entry chime sounds oddly loud in the silence, and though she has the privileges that would allow her to walk straight in, she won't do that now.

Not to a newlywed.

The thought sends a fresh stab of grief through her heart, and she's just wiping away the latest round of tears when the door slides open.

"Susan?" The commanding officer who is also her best friend in the world looks up from his datapad, dressed in rumpled silk pyjamas and nothing else, and he sets the pad aside the moment he sees her face. "Oh, God, Susan, what is it?"

She doesn't think. Can't think. She just throws herself into his welcoming, comforting arms and breaks down in tears, sobbing helplessly into his shoulder.

The dear, wonderful man doesn't even flinch. He makes soothing noises, gently strokes her hair, and maneuvers her to the sofa, his arms still tight around her, sinking to the cushions as she cries and cries and cries. "Marcus?" he asks softly, and at her shaking nod he just holds her tighter.

"I can't stay here," she says at last, when she can look at him again. "I'm so sorry, John. I just can't."

"I know." He studies her with a steady, unwavering gaze, the fierce blue that she has come to trust - has come to _love_ \- so much a reassuring reminder that no matter how it feels now, not _everyone_ she loves has been ripped away from her. "You've earned a command of your own, Susan. More than anyone I've ever met." As though stunned, he shakes his head. "But oh, God, Susan, I wish you weren't leaving me."

His choice of words doesn't escape her. 'I wish you weren't leaving _me_ ', he'd said, and she knew that was exactly what he'd meant.

"Me too," she whispers, but she doesn't say she won't go. And he doesn't ask her to.

"Have you slept at all?" he asks eventually, studying her face critically. "And no, an hour or two a night doesn't count."

Wearily, she shakes her head. It feels like days, like years, since she'd last slept properly, and her body is beginning to feel the ache. She can only take so many stims before she collapses.

"Come on," he says, and tugs her sideways, so she's resting her head on his shoulder.

It's the most comfortable she's been in months.

"Sleep," he murmurs in her ear.

"Delenn?" she asks, but she's already halfway gone.

"Already knows you're my best friend in the world," he tells her, and she's asleep before he finishes the last syllable.

She comes half awake again when the door shushes open. John twitches slightly, and she can feel his smile even if she can't see it, knows it has to be his wife.

"Delenn - " he begins, but Delenn just chuckles. It's sad, raw, but honestly relieved, and Susan can't bring herself to open her eyes.

"So she is sleeping then?" the familiar voice asks. "That is a relief."

"I didn't want you to think - " John says, and this time Delenn really does laugh, low and lovely and as delicate as she herself is.

"Do I look - what is your word - stupid to you, John? She is your friend, yes? You love her."

"Yes," he says, bluntly. "I do. Not like that. But I do."

"I know," says Delenn, and she sounds remarkably like a cat who'd got into the cream stocks. "It is good, that you do. She needs friends, people who love her without - ah - complication."

"Yes," he says, and his voice is a comforting rumble in his chest. "She does."

"So it is good." It's a declaration, not a question. "Let her sleep. I will be in bed."

Another door swishes open, and Susan falls back asleep with a soft, misty smile on her face.

She wakes with a crick in her neck and an ache in her shoulder, but it's absolutely worth it. John hugs her tightly for a moment, before they part. "Don't you dare leave without saying goodbye," he says hoarsely, and kisses her forehead.

"I won't," she says, and screws up her courage, meets his eyes, and takes a deep breath. "John? I love you, too."

His smile is a bittersweet thing, misty, aching with old memories and new grief. "Susan." He hugs her, for just a moment, like he can't bear to let her go, and in that moment she knows that it's only because he loves her so much that he _can_ let her go. "I love you. You silly, _crazy_ woman."

She doesn't look back when she walks out the door, for fear she'd never be able to. But she can feel his arms around her still, and silently thanks whatever God she still believes in for the presence of this man in her life, the one anchor she'd always had in a universe going mad around them.

When she leaves Babylon 5, it's with one of his old B5 t-shirts in her suitcase, and the memory of his smile forever written on her heart.

She cries herself to sleep more than once in that t-shirt, in the years to come. Wears it under her EarthForce jacket, the first time she takes the bridge of _her_ ship as its commanding officer, and feels his strength buttressing hers.

And sleeps just a little easier, in all those coming years, knowing that not _all_ love is unrequited.


End file.
